THE DARK KNIGHT: the second philosophy
by MelissaLianne
Summary: Third time posting, third time lucky... What happens after Bruce Wayne has gone on the run, and has the Joker really been taken in by the police force? Will this be the end of Gotham City? R&R, please!


Ideas --

**A/N:** So, I'm jumping on the Bandwagon, but hey, when inspiration kicks in at 1am in the morning, you've just got to write… and when the final result comes, what do you do? Ignore it, or post it on FanFiction? R&R.

_**Who is the Batman?**_

"A lone warrior," Commissioner Gordon tells _Gotham Daily _outside City Hall, shielding his head with a briefcase from the rain, "A man whose dream not only inspires us, but--"  
"The lying son of a bitch, he knows nothing of the Batman!" The short and stoutly built man at the bar, who had been watching the interview with disdain, was now speaking bluntly, and his remark certainly earned him a few extra popularity points with his drinking buddies. After all, most of the Gotham citizens shared his view now-a-days, the press included.

"So you say you know the Batman?" asked the barmaid, pausing from polishing an already clean glass.

"Course I do," swaggered the man, taking another sip from his beer, "I've met him."  
A chorus of _'no you haven't' _words floated around the pub, but were quickly 'shushed' by the owner, who was a tall man with a mane of shocking black hair and a personality to match. Everybody knew when to listen to Tom Gibson, and usually, when he said something, everybody listened. The customers turned their attention back towards the small, crackling television set that was positioned on a corner shelf, snippy remarks at the ready.

"...he is a man whose dream continues to give us hope, even though his own spirit has been ..." Gordon took his glasses off and wiped them before replacing them on the tip of his nose, "Broken severely beyond repair."

"Broken? How has it been broken?" asked a female reporter with a flushed face and messy red hair, "You know his reasoning?"  
"I know it, I choose not to discuss it with open sources," hedged Gordon.

"And what sources do you discuss it with...?"

"I'm sorry, I really do have to conclude this interview, but I say this to you, citizens of Gotham..." Gordon's expression became controlled - dignified, even, as he addressed the city, "_Never_ let your hope die."

- -

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. What does 'Commissioner' Gordon know about hope? Hope... ah, now that's what _really_ defines a person. I mean - look at me - I have no hope! I don't even have a dream. I merely... want to _control_ things. And look at what I have accomplished! Everybody knows me! Everybody looks at me - or at least - they try to look at me - but do you know what? They can't stand the SIGHT OF ME! These people... they pretend to like you... but they're all liars. But - looking at 'The Batman' for hope? For 'inspiration?' Ha, ha, ha. THAT MAN LOST EVERYTHING _BECAUSE_ OF ME! WHY WOULD PEOPLE LOOK UP TO HIM? Hm? Why is that?"

The Joker was chatting in a conversational tone to his two accomplices, as he sat perched in a light brown armchair which was directly beneath the window of an apartment he had just 'gate crashed.' He withdrew his sharp gaze from the telescope to glance over at them, and he wasn't disappointed. Their expressions would have been unreadable to most people, he speculated, but _he_ could see the flicker of doubt behind their eyes. So why was he choosing to ignore this trace of uncertainty, that was beginning to appear more and more? Well - the Joker regularly ranted when he wasn't speaking in an almost friendly tone to his two employees' - but this was only when they had just taken a pill that would remove all of his ramblings and despairing thoughts from their incy wincy minds. After all, he couldn't have them turn into traitors now, could he? He had to keep them... _sweet_.

"Maybe... maybe they think if they look up to the B-Batman instead of you, Boss, then they... then they..." the less drugged up employee spoke in a heavy voice, rendering the Joker's thoughts.  
"Then they what, Tony?" The Joker's dark brown eyes widened with curiosity, and he began to lick his lips, leaning forward with an imploring expression.  
Tony swallowed, his painted make-up running down his face as the room temperature began to increase. His hands were balled into fists and he looked as if he was in pain, but it was clear he didn't know why. "...will survive... but they know deep down that y-you are the... best."  
"That's very nice of you to say Tony," said the Joker in an almost kind voice, "Pity I poisoned your drink, isn't it?"  
"You... what...?"  
"I'm sorry, I thought I was perfectly clear - I poisoned your drink." The Joker stood up from his armchair and walked over to Tony, who was leaning against the opposite wall, his cheek pressed against the broken radiator for coolness against his burning skin. "W-hy would you do that..." breathed Tony, his voice becoming weaker every second.  
"Well, I found out that you were going to go to Gordon about me Tony ... it seems the pills I've been providing haven't quite... worked to their _full_ potential. You've been having doubts, haven't you?"  
"N--"  
"DON'T LIE!"  
"Yes... yes... I have..." Tony glanced at the Joker before looking at his accomplice, Dennis, who had been stone cold for quite some time now. The Joker followed Tony's gaze and he smiled widely.

"You killed Dennis?" queried Tony, his face muscles tightened as he attempted to sit up straighter.  
"And I thought it was going to take you longer to fathom it out..." the Joker continued to smile as he straightened up and began to waltz towards the door, opening it quickly. "Oh, that drink I gave you..." he paused and glanced at Tony again, "You'll die in twenty-four hours, but that's so long away! Tell me Tony, does it feel like your insides are burning? TELL ME!"  
Tony was now covered in sweat, his answering tone a groan of pain. Suddenly he let out a blood curdling scream, salty tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Shh Tony, I've decided to be nice to you, even though you've been rather... unloyal to me. This entire building is about to go kalooey. See ya."

And with that, The Joker left the apartment building in a quick pace, his face now disguised with an elegant masquerade mask which he had found in his pocket a few moments ago. Within a few minutes, he produced a small control box, and licking his lips manically, he pressed the button.

As the fire and fumes began to cloud the air, along with a scream of agony, he hummed a hauntingly happy - yet certainly out of sync tune - before skipping away from the scene of disaster.


End file.
